Naufrage
by Almandine-Azaleea
Summary: In his prison of water he drifts alone.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. It belongs to Rumiko Takahashi.**

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_**Naufrage**_

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He drifts alone pushed and moved by the waves of the ocean. In his mind he can vaguely recall a time when he wasn't at sea, when he was safe on a little piece of ground. He remembers it crumbling under his feet and sending him into the salty tempestuous oblivion he has been living in ever since.  
Further and further he drifts, coming from nowhere, going no place. Lost in his solace he gives up the track of time to the point where he no longer knows which day is which – they are all the same to him – nor whether he has endured his wet prison for months or centuries. He is beyond caring. 

He drifts, and drifts further along the waves, and deeper into his own heart, trying to forget the pain that comes with losing. He wants nothing more than to sleep without the jagged motion of the waves rocking him. He cannot.

Alone he drifts until one day he reaches a patch of land. It is an island, small, but real and sturdy. He holds on to her with all he has. For the first time in the longest time he can feel a little rested, a little lighter, and content. The waves still follow him, though, lapping at the island, growing stronger and stronger until he feels the ground perishing beneath his feet, and hears his own heart break as he is thrust once more into the relentless ocean. He can recall the island slipping through his open claws, the soil he tried to clutch on to disappearing into the cruel waves, taunting him with its rejection, and he knows the island he cared for, shared not the same depth of emotion as his own heart.

Once more he is alone, drifting aimlessly – a wandering, abandoned tattered shell thrown around by the waves. His heart cries out, and tears fall, but what good do tears do to one submerged in water? His pain cannot be relieved and so he drifts. On and on losing track of time again, burying himself into the recesses of his soul from where he hopes never to be disturbed. He is empty, and still the waves roll tossing him to and fro, lashing at his already bleeding body, throwing salty water into his open wounds. He is beyond pain, beyond awareness. All he can feel is the irregular thrum of the waves and their fight over which direction his body should go into. Some push him forward, others drag him back even as others yet pull him east-wise, or force him towards the west. He has no preference. He just wants some peace -a little place without water, without waves.

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One day, a kinder current takes pity upon the shattered soul and gently deposits him on an island. He doesn't react. He knows that if he is not dreaming, then sooner or later the island will crumble again at the force of the waves and he will once more be alone and adrift. This time his claws don't grasp on to the soil, nor do his eyes enjoy the beauty of the island, for if he does he knows he will remember the first island and mourn her. This island is more welcoming than her predecessor, though; her resources are abundant, her temperance lovely, her soil rich and welcoming, and her waters sweet and refreshing. She holds no secrets, bears no grudges and accepts him full-heartedly, yet still, he cannot will himself to accept her gifts - even when his heart begins beating again, even when he understands he can look out to the ocean fearlessly because she will keep him safe, even when he sees the kind abundance she bestows upon him, he cannot be with her as before. He is not whole. He is lacking, imperfect, incomplete, and she doesn't care. He feels she should. She doesn't. 

He tries to shut himself away again, but one day realizes there is no place to hide: she has shone light on all of him, including his flaws and secret stowaway places. She has seen all of him and still she welcomes him. He feels something akin to a smile stretch his face. It feels unfamiliar, as though he hasn't done it before – too much time had passed since the last smile he felt.  
Day by day she burrows deeper into his heart, until he realizes he has fallen in love with her, and it is too much. He knows what this entails and the fear alone is enough to drive him mad. He knows he cannot stand to lose her, and so he tries to push away. It is futile.

He doesn't want it – he decides. Doesn't want to care, to feel, to end up alone crying in the waves again. He knows his heart won't take it. Still, she accepts, and understands, and guides him. Following the trails she devises for him he discovers his heart again, discovers old dreams and courage, but the fear of being washed away once more gnaws at him; and so, she beckons him onwards and onwards he follows until he sees _it_.

_It i_s beautiful, and glowing, and brimming with life: a vast expanse of green underneath the deepest blue he has ever seen, and land as far as his eyes can encompass.

This is her promise to keep him safe and away from the tempests that have plagued his youth. He looks at her, and for once doesn't disguise the love he has come to feel; it is alright to love the island, because he now understands it will not crumble under his feet. Now, only now, he can clearly see what he thought to be a mere island was nothing more than an extension of _her_. An inlet.

He has found the mainland.

The waves lap at the ground reverently, never going too far in. He will never drift away again.

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**Dedication: To the people who keep me grounded: my family, and friends. You are my island. You are my mainland.**

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End file.
